


Access Road

by largoindminor



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Outdoor Sex, immediately after wendigo, kinda dirty, reference to weecest/pre-series wincest, unrealisticly convenient lube retrieval
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-09 09:01:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7795594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/largoindminor/pseuds/largoindminor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Years of unresolved sexual tension come to head with a little help from some serious post-hunt adrenaline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Access Road

**Author's Note:**

> i posted this on [tumblr](http://sasquatchandleatherjacket.tumblr.com/post/128828278382/so-i-see-so-many-posts-about-how-sam-and-dean-fuck) almost a year ago but forgot to post here, so here we are.

The road winds through the forest on the way back to the interstate, they go west to head east towards Denver. Sam has the radio up for once- somehow it’s more enjoyable when he’s actually the one driving- and windows down, drives maybe a little too fast for how dark it is, but no one’s on the road this late at night. The steering wheel vibrates under his grip and it feels good, too good, he’s still high from the thrill of the hunt, drunk on pain and victory and the burning fire reflected in his brother’s eye. There’s a weird sort of bubbling feeling in his chest, borders euphoria, feels like cresting over the top of a roller coaster over and over again, feels like that one night after finals when it was MDMA instead of shots. The stars are brighter than he ever remembers, the car hums prettier than he’s heard in years, and Dean- Dean glows next to him, radiant and miraculous and Sam knows he has no right to feel this good but damn if he’s not going to take advantage of it while it lasts.

There’s an access road ahead, they passed it when they drove in, and Sam remembers a split second before it comes into sight. He turns onto it, perhaps a little too fast, and gets an annoyed “Dude!” from Dean, who’s too concerned about the car at the moment to realize he should ask what the hell Sam’s doing.

And Sam doesn’t give him a chance to catch up.

He pulls to car over, puts it in park, turns the key, and removes his seat belt all in one fluid motion and then turns to Dean. Dean’s expression flashes from bewilderment to understanding right before Sam’s lips crash into his. Sam’s not gentle, they’re already beat to hell anyway, he bites at Dean’s lips, licks his way into Dean’s mouth and tastes blood and fire. He tangles his fingers through short hairs at the crown of Dean’s head and _pulls_ , angles his head to get better access, and Dean _whines_ into his mouth, grabs Sam’s biceps and squeezes too hard, pulls him closer.

Sam doesn’t know how long they kiss, only knows how bruised his lips feel, how his skin burns from the press and scrape of stubble against it, and suddenly he’s out of breath, has to pull back and take gulps of crisp autumn air to stop his head from swimming. Dean’s eyes look wild to him, more so than before when the flames danced inside them, and Sam knows Dean feels it too, whatever _it_ is, they’re both feeling it.

Sam’s not sure who get’s out of the car first, but it’s a good idea, the front seat’s cramped and the back seat’s not much bigger, not big enough for both of them. The moment he stands up he realizes how fucking rock hard he is, and thinks idly _well that explains the lightheadedness_ , but all rational thought leaves him next because once he rounds the Impala and presses Dean up against the door, all he can think about is stripping them both bare and fucking Dean over the hood of the car.

They paw at each other, pull and tug at clothes, stumble to remove shoes and socks and they’re standing in dirt but hell, they both probably still have a little blood on them that’s not even theirs, so _who cares._ Sam’s naked except for one sock and Dean’s t-shirt is the only thing still on him. Sam removes it for him, and some part in the back of his mind notices the changes, the new scars and burns and mileage marked on Dean’s body that hadn’t been there the last time they were like this. It stings a little, to see so much unfamiliar on a canvas he once knew so well. He’ll get to know it again, but not tonight, there’s not _time_.

It’s Dean who pushes Sam against the car now, kisses him, one hand grasps through Sam’s hair and the other reaches between them and wraps around Sam’s cock. Dean’s hand is warm in contrast to the air around them, and Sam’s knees nearly give way when the calloused fingers drag up and over. It’s been too long, and he knows he won’t last, knows he’s coming apart already and no, no not this time, not anymore-

Sam flips them around again, bends his knees enough so that he can rut right up against Dean, grabs two handfuls of Dean’s ass and rolls his hips rough and dirty, feels the head of his cock bump against Dean’s, feels them slick and messy with precome mixed together and finally, _finally_ , Dean’s shaking and breathing hard and not in control. It’s like fighting, but not. Each tries to get the upper hand but each equally willing to relinquish it to the other, too. Pushing and pinching and biting hard enough to bruise but by _god_ does it feel good.

“Dean,” Sam finally speaks, his voice cracked, and they don’t talk when they do this, never did, but Sam just has to say his name.

Dean nods, breathes out a word that could be _yeah_ or _Sam_ or not a word at all, and throws a quick glance to the back of the car. Sam understands, reaches into the front seat again to pop the trunk and Dean rummages though his duffel bag, returns to the front of the car with a bottle of lube, hands it to Sam, and turns around.

Sam crowds up behind him now, and this is it, this is really going to happen, right here under the moon, covered in sweat and dust. Sam slams Dean down over the hood of the car, holds his hands behind his back with one hand, not to restrain him, he knows Dean could break the hold, but just because it feels good to hold him still. He flicks open the lube with one hand and squeezes it over the crack of Dean’s ass, uses what looks like too much and then a little more and sets the bottle off to the side. Sam slides his hand through the sticky trail dripping down Dean’s thighs, then up further to the cleft of his ass, up and down.

Dean’s impatient and pushing back into Sam’s touch, he’s so turned on, fucking _leaking_ all over the shiny black paint of the Impala, and Sam suspects he could make Dean come just by playing with him like this. But he won’t, not this time, at least. He prepares Dean quickly, wiggles one finger inside him, then two, and it’s impossibly tight but Sam’s fingers skim over Dean’s prostate and he pants with pleasure, rocks back onto Sam’s hand in encouragement.

“Come on. Do it. Oh _fuck_ , now.”

Sam doesn’t think Dean’s really ready but he can’t wait anymore either, can’t deny Dean’s request when it’s made in that rough commanding tone. He removes his fingers as gently as he can and spreads a bit more lube over his cock. He lines himself up with Dean and pushes in, feels tight resistance and goes slow, doesn’t want to hurt Dean no matter how eager they both are. Dean will clearly have _none_ of that, though, and slams backwards roughly, enveloping Sam fully in one swift movement. Sam hears Dean’s sharp intake of breath but there’s no time to slow down to see if he’s ok.

“I said _now_ Sam. God. Move. Oh god, _fuck me.”_

And Sam’s never heard Dean talk like that before, bossy and desperate at the same time, and it _does things to him,_ unleashes something primal and possessive. And Dean is his, fucking _his,_ after all so why shouldn’t he be possessive?

Sam grabs Dean’s hips hard a thrusts into him, fucks him mercilessly into the hard metal underneath and it feels amazing. Dean’s so tight and so fucking _warm_ inside, and he clings to Sam’s cock with each  stroke, chases it and pulls it back in and Sam’s delirious with it, feels his grasp on sanity slipping with each beautiful broken groan that falls from Dean’s lips. Sam’s aware of his approaching orgasm, but only tangentially, because what he’s chasing now is so much more than that. It’s animalistic, the need to claim, to _re_ claim, to mark and validate and fucking _feel._

Sam leans over Dean, blankets his back and nuzzles into the damp skin below his ear as he tries to fuck him deeper, Dean’s cursing, _fuck, shit yeah, god, fucking shit,_ half formed swears muffled by the press of the impala and the spit pooling beneath his lips, it’s filthy and Sam loves it. He sinks his teeth into the meaty muscle of Dean’s shoulder, bites hard and feels Dean’s hips stutter beneath him.

“Fuck Sam. Gonna come. Oh _fuck_ _.”_

Sam reaches around, gropes for Dean’s neglected cock but Dean’s already coming, his body seizes and clamps down around Sam and Sam thinks wildly _I just made Dean come on my cock,_ and that would have been enough, really, even without Dean squeezing and fluttering around him. Sam pushes into him as far as he can and stills, lets loose a long, low grunt and rubs his face across Dean’s back.

“I don’t wanna, not yet,” Sam whines, his brain stubbornly holding onto these last few seconds.

Dean shifts a little, his hole clenches again weakly and Sam comes. It’s sharp and intense and damn near painful how hard he comes, and he stays there, breathless and buried deep in Dean until his cock softens and slips free.

They dress silently and get back in the car. Sam feels a small pang of guilt when Dean plops into the driver’s seat and gingerly readjusts himself, he’s going to be sore for a few days, there’s no doubt, and long car rides won’t help.

“We could stop for a few days in Denver. Or Colorado Springs? I hear they have, uh, the world’s largest beetle.  Or something. If you want.” Sam’s voice sounds strange to him, like he’s listening to a recording of himself.

“Nah, I’m good,” and then, “I’m real good. Sam.”

“Yeah,” Sam manages a weak smile. The high from earlier all but worn off, the exhaustion from the hunt, and the sex, begins to kick in, “Yeah. I’m good. _We’re_ good.” Sam’s not sure what he means, or if he’s really _actually_ good, whatever good is. But he’s got Dean, really _got_ him again, fuck, whatever _that_ means, and that’s at least better than yesterday. He falls asleep before they’re even back on the highway, and for once, it’s a dreamless sleep.


End file.
